Batman: Fear Of Loss

A Symbol of Hope

     "Aghhh!" The thug screamed as he plummeted.
     Crimson and Yellow sliced through the air with such precision, mimicking that of a heat-seeking missile. With a hiss, it wrapped around the man's leg, propelling him into a spin. He twirled, slamming his head into a window below.
     "What the hell, Bruce?! What were you thinking?!" a voice said, almost as sharp as the tool he wielding.
     "I had it under control, Tim," Batman said, walking passed him.
     Tim yanked the cord linking him to the thug back, getting a grip, and stopped Bruce with his other hand. "By killing him?!"
     "What?" Batman said, giving a face of genuine confusion.
     Tim squinted his eyes and lowered his eyebrows. "You mean you don-"
     The conversation was stopped - cut off by one terrifying beep. One beep that generated so many situations in Batman's mind - so many fears.
     Batman raised his hand to his temple, dropping to a knee. It felt as if Bane himself had clobbered him.
     "Robin! GO!" Batman shouted, his booming voice shaking the chandeliers.
     Robin stood, frozen. Batman charged at him and pushed.

Falling: That rush you feel. That moment when life slows and you take in everything. That singular moment when, what we perceive as an eternity, is in actuality: seconds. Just a moment to think. To recollect. To understand. The plummet, with death staring up at you.

     Robin thrusted himself around, launching a grappling hook onto a nearby building. Every muscle in his body tensed, anticipating the sudden jerk. When it finally came, he slammed into a window.
     Robin groaned, picking himself up from a small pool of warm crimson liquid. Every muscle ached, his arm and side pierced with shards of glass. He propped himself against a wall, yanking the glass from his body, each dripping with blood. He hacked, spitting blood onto the carpet, but then he remembered.
     Robin leaned outside, glancing at the thug's corpse that lay below, contorted and sporting bloodied bones.
Dead. Robin gave an excruciating sigh,
noting a possible collapsed lung as he hunched over in pain. He reached for his utility belt, but orange light met his eyes, followed by the quake that shook both he and Gotham City at their cores.
     The base of Wayne tower erupted into a fiery blaze, each floor tumbling down in what seemed to be a crashing jenga tower.
     Robin rubbed his eyes, snared in disbelief. Wayne Tower lay in destruction - a burning martyr of hope.
     Batman crawled through the streets, propping himself up with a brick wall, layered in soot. He sighed, turning to face the rubble. For the first time, Gotham lay silent, watching and feeling the devastation. Stricken with fear.
     Batman stood upright, clasping his side, it throbbing. The flames of Wayne Tower roared, and smoke plummeted into the dark sky above. He lowered his head, and his hand shifted into a firm fist.
     "Wayne Tower: the first symbol crushed by fear. Do you feel it Gotham? The cold state - the silence, the fear that grips you all? Your hopes diminished?"
     Batman gawked up at the screen harboring Scarecrow's mangled face, though he did not show it.
     "Tonight, Gotham will know fear. Tonight, the Batman dies. Tonight, hope will be erased from Gotham. Forever." 
     Batman raised his hand to his ear and spoke, "Barbara. I need Tim's location."
     "What happened?!" she shouted.
     "He's okay, Barbara,"
Batman said, assuring himself more than anything.
     Oracle fell silent for a moment. "Napier Apartments, 34th floor," she said quietly.
     "Thank you, Barbara," he said.
     Batman turned to face the burning rubble once more. "I'm coming,
Robin."